A Darkened Path
by Saryon
Summary: Just a fic based on the web game The Reincarnation. This story will track the path of a Nether mage, be it to glory or destruction. Bear with me on the rating and genre, I'm not entirely certain on the path this will take.
1. Prologue

This is a fanfic based on the internet game The Reincarnation. Reviews would be most welcome, since I would love to improve.

Prologue

He was in a sea of blackness. A sea of nothingness that spread out infinitely. He floated alone without comprehension of time. His mind was confused. Where was he? How did he get here? And, more importantly, _who_ was he?

It was a strange kind of confusion, however. He wasn't panicked in spite of his lack of memory. Perhaps it was the feeling in the back of his mind that he had been through this before. Or perhaps it was the feeling of tranquility that saturated the void he floated in. Being confused wasn't so bad, after all, because he was alone and had no one to fear.

Fear. That set off a spark in his mind. He'd been afraid once. No, more than once, but once recently. Or at least it seemed recently to him, he wasn't really sure how long he had been floating in this void. His sense of time was distorted in the darkness, for all he knew it was taking him years just to form a single thought.

Angrily he forced himself to concentrate. He had been afraid. What had he been afraid of? Death? No, something about the word 'Death' just didn't hold any meaning for him. A memory suddenly surged to the forefront of his mind, demanding his full attention.

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"My lord, another enemy comes!" his newly promoted military advisor annouced fearfully. He had only been the military advisor for an hour, filling the void left when the previous advisor was slain in the last attack.

The archmage looked up from the status reports he'd been flipping through. "You knew it was inevitable," he replied calmly. "With the number of attacks this country has suffered, we're far too ripe a target to ignore now." He glanced down at his troop report. _Far too few to even hope to survive._

He chuckled to himself. Not that he had any hope of that anyway. Even if he survived the night, the world would disintegrate by morning anyway, and he'd die. Or rather, he'd have to start all over again. He considered putting up a fight, clawing against the inevitable, but decided against it.

Sighing in resignation, he looked at his advisor and said, "Send the troops away and hide yourselves. I will be meditating in my chambers." He ignored the man's weak protests and left. He had no doubts that his order would be carried out. As an archmage his word was law, and the life of any who disobeyed was forfeit. Not that it mattered either way, he merely felt like being courteous to his fellow mages that might actually have a chance at escaping the infernal loop the gods had placed them in.

The archmage sealed his chambers and kneeled in front of his altar. The altar was plain and unadorned except for the dark stains of blood. Upon the altar rested his most prized possession, the most prized possession of any archmage. The spellbook of each archmage was made individually, and tended to reflect their owner, and his was no different. The cover was bound with the hide of a powerful demon, and was the color of the deepest night. Each page was made from the hide of a fallen dominion. And each page held phenomenal power, even what he considered a basic spell far outranked anything the pitiful magicians of Terra could manage.

He stroked the cover lovingly, knowing it would survive his death and return to him when he finally reincarnated. For that was what awaited him and all the archmages that failed to prove themselves worthy of ascending to the afterlife: a constant cycle of death and reincarnation. He didn't fear death, not anymore. He had been in this constant cycle for longer than he cared to remember. He had tried once to fully die, to let himself just dissipate into nothingness. It hadn't worked. Either the gods had known and prevented him, or his power was such that he simply _couldn't_ die.

There was always the small fear, however, that gripped him each time he knelt before his altar to await his fate as Armageddon approached. It wasn't the prospect of his mortality, but the prospect of his _im_mortality that scared him. He didn't want to keep doing this. Almost, he regretted the events all those millenia ago that had led him to acquire the power of an archmage. Almost, but not quite. He knew it would be worth it. Someday it would all be worth it.

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The memory slowly faded into the background as the archmage began to regain the ability to focus his mind. His name still eluded him, but he knew it would come eventually. For now, he needed to find Terra and reform his body. He cast his awareness about the void, searching. He did not search constantly, for he vaguely recalled from previous lives that Terra was not always formed when he regained awareness. This seemed to be happening more and more as the centuries ground by.

Then, he became aware of a presence near him. The archmage could not tell how long it had been there, nor who or what it was. He formed a query in his mind and projected it to the presence. To his surprise, he recieved a response that he could hear.

"You know me as Magic, archmage," the presence said. Magic, the goddess of magic and knowledge! What did she want with him? He did not project these thoughts, but Magic seemed to hear them anyway. "Do you not recall your pact with me, all those millenia ago?"

The archmage searched his mind. He had not recovered much of his memory, though what she said did feel like the truth. But he could not recall any specifics.

He felt anger from the presence press against his mind. "Do not play games with me, archmage," she warned. "You know I am not a goddess to be trifled with."

The archmage concentrated. Her presence or the fact that she was speaking was helping him remember how to speak himself. Speaking slowly and carefully, he replied, "I am not playing games, Magic. You know that I lose my memory each time I die. I do not recall our bargain at this time, but neither do I believe you are lying. Tell me of our bargain; you know I would not intentionally renege on any deal I made with you." This was true. While he had no qualms about breaking his word with another archmage, lying to a goddess would bring swift and terrible retribution.

The anger pressing against his mind flared like a star going nova, an almost palpable heat, then abruptly vanished. "No," she said. "I will let you remember in your own time." Her presence started to fade. Before she faded completely, she added, "But do not forget that we have a deal."

The archmage would have frowned deeply if he had a body. Despite this lack, however, he still made the attempt though he would never know if he succeeded or not. Then he pushed the encounter to the back of his mind. He had more important things to think about. He could feel Terra nearby, and it would demand all of his attention to travel there and reanimate his body. He set off towards Terra hoping, as always, with all his being that _this_ would be the last time.


	2. Chapter 1

This chapter is considerably longer than the prologue. The rest will, like as not, be around this length.

Chapter 1

The archmage stopped for a moment to catch his breath and rest his weary legs. The journey had not been all that long, but his newly formed body was still not yet at full strength. Raising his hooded gaze, he was pleased to note that he was nearing his destination.

The great country of Lartuen was an impressive sight, as always. Its great walls stood taller than the tallest titan. The walls were thick enough that even had it been made of normal stone, instead of an impenetrable magic stone, even the mightiest of elementals would scoff at battering them down. Towers, almost as numerous as the stars, rose up beyond the clouds, higher than even the mighty dragons cared to fly.

It was the only country on Terra that was always in the same location every time Terra was reborn. It was also neutral territory for all archmages. Any archmage caught fighting within the walls of Lartuen would have his soul bound and tortured for all eternity. So the council had decreed.

The archmage snorted as he resumed his journey. The council was little more than the lapdogs of the gods. They had great power, but they held little sway over the warring archmages. They passed down decrees from time to time, but rarely did any great number of archmages listen.

Glancing up at the sky, he saw flights of red dragons, air elementals, and dominions patrolling the skies. He could tell by the vibrations of the ground that a great many earth and fire elementals, and probably even titans, patrolled the ground. The archmage shook his head. It was mostly a waste of energy, but every century or so an archmage would get it into his head that he could conquer Lartuen and make its vast riches his own. What those archmages would fail to realize is that they would be fighting numerous archmages of every color, all with the blessings of every god on Terra. Their attack was usually short-lived, and always ended with the offending archmage's soul being sent to Lucifer or Satan to serve as...entertainment.

Having finally reached the gates, the archmage halted when a guard interposed his pike in his path. "Please state your name and business here," he said in a bored monotone. It was obvious that he was performing a task that he didn't really think needed to be performed. Indeed, were any trouble to commence he, and all other guards for that matter, were unders strict orders to flee and report to their superiors, archmages being far too dangerous for a mere soldier to fight.

The archmage leaned heavily on his staff. "My name is Lasak Gha'mory," he said in a low voice. "My business is my own."

The guard frowned, his boredom slowly being replaced by professional annoyance. "All archmages must state their business before entering," he stated firmly. The archmage saw the muscles in his jaw tighten. He also noted that his free hand strayed minutely to his sword.

Lasak slowly pulled back his hood. He was not an imposing man, nor was he handsome. His thick dark hair was stained with sweat from his journey, plastered to his head and mussed from being under the hood. He had the look and bearing of one who rarely pulled his nose up from a book.

But he was still an archmage. His aura of power was palpable even to those with no magical training. His green eyes skewered the guard in a glare that had him quivering in fear. Still, the guard did not back down, despite the growing smell of urine eminating from him. Magic crackled in the air as Lasak's anger grew. He had to say but a word and the guard would be reduced to ashes.

He was still in the process of deciding when an authoritive voice cut through the tension. "What is the meaning of this?" Lasak didn't move his gaze from the guard, but out of the corner of his eye saw a large armored man wearing the symbol of the council stop next to the guard. "Well?" he demanded.

Lasak slowly turned his glare on the other man. He was wearing the attire of a captain, and was probably the one in charge. "My business is my own, mortal. Now allow me to pass, or face the consequences."

The captain was far more disciplined than his underling. If he was afraid, there were no overt outward signs of it. Lasak could almost see the calculations going on inside his head. _If I kill him not a single archmage will denounce me. It is within my rights to execute a mortal for seeking to place themselves higher than an archmage. While some may say that I could have just complied, none will fault me for keeping these humans in line._

The captain finally sighed and shoved the guard out of Lasak's way. "Fine. But you had better be on your best behaviour, my men will be watching you."

Lasak chuckled softly. "Will they?" he replied mockingly. He twitched a finger and disappeared from their sight. Starting to walk to the gate, he asked, "How can they watch what they cannot see?" His mocking laughter echoed off the walls as he walked through the gates.

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Lasak stolled through the door of the dark shop as casually as he could. His hood was pulled over his head, hiding his face in shadows. His staff thumped a steady rhythim as he walked, no hint of hurry. Somehow, however, he failed miserably. As always.

Karla the Grey Witch, as the proprietor was known, smiled at his hooded figure as soon as he entered. "Welcome, Lasak. I set aside a couple of scrolls for you."

He sighed. So much for trying to not appear anxious. He had spent the first hour within the walls of Lartuen perusing the magical items for sale at the various vendors. There was always a chance that something useful would be available, but he really just wanted to keep from seeming too eager to Karla. She was generally fair with her prices, but she was still a shrewd trader. If he seemed too eager, she'd jack up her asking price.

Glancing around, he realized that it really didn't matter what the price started at. Several archmages were there, and they looked ready to fight for the best scrolls. Lasak was by no means the richest archmage around, and doubted he could outbid them should Karla have anything ancient prepared. But then, because of his unique spellbook, he had a headstart on the others and was only interested in select spells.

From the looks on some of their faces, they were very annoyed that he hadn't shown up earlier. He smiled within the shadows of his hood. Karla considered him a valued customer, and a friend, and would often hold scrolls for him to bid on while refusing to sell them until he showed up. He didn't always win the ensuing auction, but he certainly appreciated the chance.

Karla smoothed her robes as she stood and called for attention. "I have prepared several scrolls for you to bid on. We shall begin with the spell Invisibility." Her eyes flicked to Lasak almost imperceptably, then continued, "We shall begin the bidding at five million."

Lasak heaved a silent sigh. He doubted any of the other archmages had noticed, and if they had they wouldn't have understood the significance of that glance. Relenting to her unspoken warning, Lasak slowly drew back his hood. She had given him and many other archmages warnings of varying severity for keeping their hoods on in her presence during bidding. One particularly stupid and stubborn archmage she had reduced to ash. The urn it resided in was displayed on a shelf behind her counter as a warning to anyone else who would cross her.

He listened to the proceedings with only half an ear. It was a spell that he, indeed _any_, archmage could acquire by studying their spellbooks. Some, though, prefered to hasten the process of researching their spells, although _re_researching their spells might be a better way to put it.

The bidding ended with a mage dressed in blue robes receiving the spell for an exorbitant price. Lasak shook his head minutely in disgust. The savvy archmages knew better than to waste too much gold on unnecessary spells. While he wasn't conceited enough to consider himself the savviest archmage by far, he certainly had enough sense to know when to stop bidding. He leaned on his staff as Karla displayed the next scroll. "The next spell up is Meteor Storm. Bidding starts at thirty million."

Lasak considered. It was a spell that he would eventually be able to research with considerable time and effort. He was very tempted to place a bid of his own. However, the bidding quickly skyrocketed into the idiotic range, and with a minute shrug he awaited the conclusion.

A man wearing the red robes of an eradication mage won this time, paying well over forty times the starting price. Lasak did nothing to hide his disgust. His expression didn't change as Karla announced the next spell. "Next is the spell Night of the Living Dead. Bidding starts at one hundred million."

Before he set out on his journey Lasak had done some research in his spellbook, and already had it memorized. In any case, it was not a spell he really cared to use. Useful for those who used zombies, but he didn't like the way they stunk up his country. Vampires and liches, though also undead, were not decaying or in a smelly state of decay, respectively.

He listened while the bidding proceeded more modestly, finally ending with the red robed archmage again. Karla raised her hands to silence the murmurings of annoyance from the other archmages. "The next spell is Sword of Light. I will start the bidding off at one hundred million."

Lasak straightened, pleased and eager. That was a spell he didn't have. Assuming he could ever efficiently expend the steep amount of mana it would cost a nether such as him to cast, it even had its uses. He immediately said, "Two hundred million."

The other archmages glanced at each other. That kind of opening bid usually meant that, were someone else to win the bidding, it would be at a steep cost. Still, the heavierset archmage of the two in white robes countered, "Three hundred million."

Lasak considered his next move carefully. If he made a move to decicively win and failed, the white mage probably had the gold to go considerably higher than Lasak could ever hope to. But if his next bid was too low he would tip his hand that he could not keep outbidding the white mage. "Four hundred fifty million," he said without emotion.

The white mage bit his lip. Lasak felt a twinge of hope. The spell was already in the range of being not worth it for a mage who could acquire the spell without much effort. If he kept bidding he would lose a considerable sum of gold that could be better used elsewhere. He inclined his head and said, "Too high for me."

Karla waited a minute to ensure that no one else would bid, then declared Lasak the winner. She handed him the scroll with a friendly wink, she being one of the few who knew that he would never lose the spell. She held the next scroll up. "Call Treants is up next. I will start the bidding at fifty million."

His eyebrows rose in surprise. She hadn't been lying when she said that she'd held two scrolls for him. This one was less useful, but would still serve to increase the potency of the magic he cast. He didn't immediately speak, though. While he wanted the spell, he needed some time to consider just how much he was willing to spend on it.

The lone verdant archmage in the room opened up the bidding in a soft voice. "I bid one hundred million," she said. This was the first she had bid on anything. Lasak had been wondering whether she would find a spell she wanted.

The red robed archmage snorted. "Two hundred million." Lasak glanced at him. The spell might have use for him, but Lasak had a feeling that the man was doing it merely to prevent the verdant mage from being able to acquire it.

"Three hundred million," Lasak said.

The red robed man glared at him angrily. Lasak's eyes narrowed. _He must be dipping into his gold reserves now._ He shrugged mentally. _Well, he's the fool for paying so much for so little._ After a long glare, he growled, "Three hundred fifty million."

Lasak smirked. He was definitely into his gold reserve. His smirk only served to further infuriate the eradication archmage as he said, "Four hundred million."

He was surprised and caught off guard when the verdant mage said, "Five hundred million." He glanced at her with a more appraising eye. She was apparently not low on funds, as her modest first bid had seemed to indicate. _Must have wanted to get it at as low a price as possible._ He doubted, however, that she would make another bid if this one was broken. She didn't seem the kind to waste her gold, and any higher would be a gross waste of gold.

"Five hundred fifty million," the eradication ground out after a noticeable hesitation.

Lasak grinned triumphantly. "Six hundred million." The red robed man snarled, but did not break his bid. He glanced at the verdant mage with a questioning eyebrow raised. "Care to go any higher?" he asked pleasantly. He really didn't want to spend any more on the spell, but now that the eradication mage was out of the running he didn't care whether or not he won. She shook her head in negation.

Karla waited a few moments longer, then handed Lasak the scroll. A loud growl stopped her from moving on to the next spell. The red robed man stepped in front of Lasak. "That spell is mine!" Magical energy gathered about him ominously, and Lasak had the feeling that he wasn't going to be casting any minor spell.

Lasak was about to say something when a grey robed figure suddenly interposed itself between the two of them. "I would rethink that if I were you," Karla warned, magic crackling about her body. The tone of her voice made it clear that he would become her new warning piece if he kept going. The archmage was either too angry or too dense to realize this, however, and only redoubled the magic he was gathering about himself.

Lasak laid a hand on Karla's shoulder in a calming guesture. "Peace, my friend. Everyone knows what happens when you're crossed." He cast a significant look at the urn behind her counter. "He was merely preparing to teleport himself back to his country. Isn't that right?"

The eradication mage's expression darkened, but, after glancing at the urn, snarled and disappeared with a flash. Karla let the gathered energy dissipate, and cast him a glance that was grateful with just a hint of annoyance. Lasak grinned without intending to, seeing in her expression that she had almost been looking forward to finally getting a chance to exert her considerable magical power.

She shrugged at him, then said, "Well, enough entertainment. I have one final spell. Call Griffon, and will begin at seventy-five million."

Lasak shook his head to himself. He already had that spell in his spellbook. He waited until the bidding was over, quickly ending with the verdant mage getting the spell for a fairly decent price. The archmages filtered out, leaving Lasak alone with Karla.

He walked over to her as she took her seat behind the counter and prepared her spellbook, parchment, and inks to begin the slow process of scribing scrolls. Taking a look at her materials, he asked, "Is there anything I can get you?"

Karla looked up at him with a smile. "Yes, actually, there is something you can get me before we catch up. See that stack of parchment there?" she asked, pointing at a shelf on the wall to his left. He nodded. "Bring me that." Obligingly he retrieved the stack of parchment, then took a seat across the counter.

They chatted for a long while, well past the time that most archmages would return to their respective countries to either rest or ensure it was running smoothly. He still wasn't sure how exactly their friendship had formed. It had started as a professional thing; he had expressed interest in her scroll scribing skills, and would stop by from time to time to watch.

Truth be told, he had been hoping to use her techniques on his own spellbook. His own method required using the skin of a fallen dominion as his parchment. That was a simple matter. As soon as he was done researching he usually had a decent number of them guarding his country from invasion. The part he loathed was the requirement of the blood of a nymph. Each time he sacrificed one a little part of him died.

Lasak knew he would be considered weak if any of his dark robed brethren knew about this. Any one of the nether mages on Terra would willingly sacrifice hundreds of thousands of nymphs if it meant keeping new spells in their spellbook. He aknowledged he was weak. It had been a whim that had caused him to choose the dark robes as his specialty, not a compulsion. Oh, he could be ruthless when needed, but unlike most nether mages he took no pleasure in it. It was a means to an end, nothing more.

Gradually, though, their relationship had changed. As the centuries went by, they slowly grew closer until, on some century he could no longer pinpoint, they were calling each other by their first names and spending as much time together as they reasonably could.

He smiled in remembrance, thinking back to when he had first realized how close they had become. He had been worried that she would start favoring him, and give him better prices. But it turned out she was more fair than he'd given her credit for. Aside from withholding certain spells from auction until he was there to place bids on them, he never received preferencial treatment. This, again, was not normal among archmages, most of whom would have been angered that they did not receive better prices or outright free spells, completely ignoring what real friendship meant.

Eventually, though, he had to take his leave. He had spells to research and troops to summon afterwards. She nodded as he stood to leave. "Take care of yourself, Lasak. The years are too boring when you're away."

Lasak smiled easily. "You know I will." Giving her a fleeting kiss on the cheek, he returned to his country via the ethers.


End file.
